Friday February 10, 1984

 5, Club St, Lidget Green

Up with the larks and dressed in sombre, sober attire to await the ebullient L. Gledhill. We sat in the bedroom cooing over Samuel until LG arrived at 8:30. We went over to the Moorhouse. LG is such an easy man to get on with. We didn't talk business other than when he says our allocated staff hours will have to be cut. He didn't say by how many. Oh dear. We cannot complain though. I haven't done a day's work since Christmas Eve and I've been on full pay since. We picked up M. Pirie and inspected the deserted pub_______. On with the lisping Pirie to the court where we trudged through a labyrinth of passageways to find court room no. 6. I went into the box and the protection order was granted and we then went to queue with the riff-raff paying their fines to pay the £4 for my licence which took over an hour. It was quite wrong that we should have been made to line up with the rapists, bigamists, and arsonists in this way. L. Gledhill was livid. I said goodbye to him until Monday and walked down to the YP where I saw Betty in photo sales and gave her a 1928 pic of Bessie which I am having copied for Ally. Home for 12:30. 

Sue and Samuel.

On the bus home I opened my Daily Telegraph and gasped in amazement. Harold Macmillan, who is 90 today, has accepted an earldom. How splendid. I suppose the old boy has done it to ensure a place for his son Maurice in the upper house. Is it the first earldom to be created since Avon or Snowdon? One day I feel sure that our beloved PM will be Countess of Finchley, or Countess Thatcher of Grantham. This will solve the problem of what style she will take on accepting the Garter. Dame Margaret Thatcher, KG sounds odd, but the letters KG tagged after a peerage would be fine. All this is in the far distant future anyway. In other news, Yuri Andropov is dead. Kidney disease. Who will succeed? The Ruskies lean towards ageing geriatric leaders for some reason. Bring back the Tsar, that's what I say.

At home Ally was going about with a duster and vacuum cleaner. She then went out to draw her family allowance. We ate fish and chips. Over to Guiseley at 5 o'clock. To Lynn's then Sue's and then back to Lynn's. Sue is so hospitable and normal. Christopher sat on Samuel thinking he was a toy. ________.

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Thursday February 9, 1984

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Rbblesdale

The Crown, Horton-in-Ribblesdale.

Another sunny day, and warmer. Samuel had a good night and was horribly dirty today. A most unbelievable batch of nappies. We blame the sheep's head broth. The five of us went for a long walk again and pushed the pram for a couple of miles into the hills. So very peaceful. Back in the village for 2 where we sat on a bench outside the Crown Inn for an hour. The pub was barren. As usual the conversation turned to _________. It is now common-place. Mum and Dad agree to come over on Monday to assist at the Moorhouse. Aren't they good? Phoned Les Gledhill who said he will pick me up at 8:30 tomorrow to go to Leeds for my protection order. He's such an amiable fellow. 

Merrily home to Waltergarth for 'luncheon' which we didn't eat until 4pm. Samuel always has hysterics at meal times. We sat before a blazing fire afterwards and then packed the car. Power cut. Fumbled for candles and then said goodbye to Mum and Dad in the flickering twilight. They have loved seeing Samuel. We were back at Club Street within the hour. The power cut stretched down as far as Skipton. We had cups of tea and sprawled. Our tummies are upset. Yesterday's sheep, or today's pig? 

Bed. Peace. Snores.

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Wednesday February 8, 1984

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Walking at Horton.

Cold, but brilliant sunshine. Samuel slept until 6:30, excellent. I woke with a thick head and staggered around like a zombie. _____. 'Full English' with Mama and Papa. She is decidedly thinner and is eating less. Both seem content with the life they now lead. Afterwards, wrapped up like sherpas, we set out with the pram and pushed Samuel through Horton and up to (gap in manuscript) and back around to Waltergarth for 2pm. Wonderful, scenic. We all arrived back glowing. All says that recently my eyes look 'weak'. Looking in the mirror I do look old and and eyes are strained with red circles around them. Ally thumbed through the Marshall Ward catalogue and then slept in the chair with Samuel piled on top of her. I read old copies of the Daily Telegraph. viz: The Duke of Beaufort's obit; a Lebabon pull-out; a man has walked in space for the first time without a line connecting him to the spacecraft. 

A roaring coal fire blazed throughout. Samuel didn't settle after his country walk and constantly fed until bedtime. At 5 we ate sheep's head broth and dumplings. This is an ancient Wilson recipe, close to extinction. Mum begged Ally to take the recipe and keep it going because Lynn and Sue don't want to know. Ally is tired out and deadly quiet. Tiredness makes her vicious. We watched the news and then 'Minder' and then more news. The Queen attended the (Duke of Beaufort's) funeral at Badminton this afternoon. It was shown on the BBC news. The new duchess is a daughter of the Marquis of Bath you know. One of the Thynnes. To bed with the 'Dalesman'. I was too tired to look at it. __________.

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Tuesday February 7, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green

Got out of bed at 3:18am to find a gale blowing outside and snow falling again. We have only just got rid of the last lot. This isn't all. At 7:30 the house was icy cold and the radiators were cold. Yes, the pilot light had blown out and it's a swine to re-light. We huddled around the gas fire like families did in the cold, far-off days of Mr Heath's premiership when all power was switched off for weeks at a time. I phoned a plumber - Grighton (?) & Wright - then at 9:30 I walked to Toller Lane to see a police inspector about my qualifications regarding the Moorhouse Inn appointment. I signed my name to a sheet of paper and then walked home. Sunshine. Phoned Papa who says the snow at Horton has all but gone. (Ally had phoned Mum earlier and she had said it was Arctic-like and that rockhopper penguins were nesting on Station Rd, &c.). We kept a vigil for the plumber who arrived at 1. It took a blow-lamp to get our pilot light aflame. He ran in with his torch as if he was opening the winter olympics. At 3:30 we headed out to Horton-in-Ribblesdale. The car piled high with luggage. Found Mum and Dad well. Fish for dinner and glasses of beer. They cooed over Samuel and we were pushed quietly into the background. Old photographs came out. To bed at 11-plus. Samuel didn't sleep until after midnight.

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Monday February 6, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas, &c

Hideous rain. Stayed in bed until 9:30 whilst Ally bedecked Samuel in his finery. He is the Yves St Laurent of the baby world. Breakfasted with Bessie who is much recovered from her 'flu. She thanked us for being such a tonic. She stuffed a £10 note in my hand for Samuel. We left at 12:30 after Bessie had snapped another two dozen photos of 'Matthewel', as she accidentally calls him. For many years Alison and Andrew have also been 'Gralison' and 'Grandrew'. Graham has always been Graham. Favouritism. 

Frank, Bessie and Samuel.

Heavy rain on the journey home. Hit Bradford for 5pm. I unlocked the door and then went down to get a haircut. At the barbers I found a queue of six GPO employees awaiting short back and sides, and like a fool I sat and waited until 7. By the time I hit the chair my hair, bushy and flowing, was now down below my knees. I used my time reading a tatty, warm, thumbed Daily Express. The Duke of Beaufort died yesterday in his 84th year. HM will be beside herself with grief. 'Master' as he was known by the Royal Family, has been Master of the Queen's Horse since 1936, and was the last surviving Knight of the Garter to be been dubbed outside the reign of Elizabeth II. He was of course married to Lady Mary Cambridge, niece of Queen Mary. HM has reigned for 32 years today. President Reagan is 73. The Hon Mark Vestey has been crippled in a hunting accident.In 1976 he married Rosie Clifton, an old flame of the P of W. Thus, I was placed into the barber's chair, in the dead of night, thinking of the coming Badminton Horse Trials without old Beaufort in charge. 

On my arrival home the house was like a scene in downtown Beirut. Ally struggling with Samuel who hadn't stopped wailing since arriving home. I made sandwiches and pots of tea and we looked at some splendid new photos just back from being developed. I have a note from Bradford police to contact them re my occupation of the Moorhouse Inn and I am fixed for an interview at Toller Lane at 9am tomorrow. I phoned Mabel to cancel lunch tomorrow. Auntie with Marlene and Frank plan to come and see us on Friday February 17. We retired to bed at 10, but Samuel wanted none of it and squealed hideously until midnight. ___________.

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Sunday February 5, 1984

 5th Sunday after Epiphany

Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas, Hampshire

Rain. I was unable to get out of bed when Samuel woke and left Ally to it. My eyes felt like lead weights. I finally climbed out at 10:30. Ally was bright and breezy and had eaten breakfast and clad in red pants and blue wellies was washing Mandy Metro on the drive. Frank had dried the car floor and fixed the radio. The man has an obsession with car radios. Later we had a cozy gathering around the log fire - a pile of sausage rolls, 'Bonanza' on the telly and the Sunday newspapers. Sir Geoffrey Howe is doomed, though the PM sticks by him. The Duke of Edinburgh has been to visit the Grenadier Guards (?) in Ulster and the Roman Catholics are playing hell because the barracks house the UDR regiment, who have been killing Roman Catholics right, left and centre with apparent rellish. Bessie took out her camera and used a whole film on Samuel. Samuel with Mum, Samuel with Dad, Samuel with Frank, Samuel on rug, Samuel on chair, &c. Read Nancy Mitford until darkness fell. We were too lazy to switch on the lights. Ally slept cuddled next to me. Dined with F & B at 6:30 in the kitchen. Yorkshire puds and a large leg of lamb. A jolly affair. Frank knocked a glass of wine over me whilst I was holding Samuel, but the spill missed the baby. I was sodden. Watched Edward Woodward in a film afterwards, and Bessie took another film of Samuel pictures. To bed after 11. Nancy Mitford. TCP. Snores. Baby farts, &c.

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Saturday February 4, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

with Samuel.

A horrible night. We got no sleep. We snatched only a few minutes sleep after 5. I was laid amongst my pillows listening to a cock crowing. Who has a cock in Martyr Worthy? (You don't have to answer that one). I had a bath at 9 and left Ally sleeping and went down for breakfast with Bessie. We sat watching the young gardener digging in the mud. Poor sod. Looked at the Daily Express. Sir Geoffrey Howe isn't going down too well. Bessie is right when she commented: 'he should have stuck to looking after the money.' The man lacks the polish that's required for the Foreign Office. Samuel stirred at 10:45 and I took him down to his grandmama. Rain outside. Frank and Bessie seem lost for something to do. We are told that Andrew has sought Dad's advice about becoming engaged to Lorraine and Frank told him straight that he didn't think much of it. They have only known each other for 10 months and have no money and both are so very young. She's only 18. Andrew was 'hot under the collar' at his father's advice and relations have been strained since the conversation took place last weekend. They have decided that this is all Lorraine's idea and that she is pushing Andrew. They do underestimate the poor lad and I cannot help feeling sorry for him. He will do exactly what he wants in the end no doubt and I hope he'll be happy. A bit of responsibility and the love of a good woman might just give him the impetus to pull his socks up. 

Keeping the log fire stoked is a full time job which helped to pass the afternoon. Frank bruised his face chopping logs and gave himself a black eye. We watched the sport on the BBC. Skiing, &c. Boiled ham and chips for tea followed by more fire stoking. Ally and Samuel retired at 9:30 and Bessie, Frank and I watched Olivier in The Boys from Brazil - Gregory Peck playing Josef Mengele. Remind me never to have a Doberman Pinscher. Bed at 11:40 after gins and tonics.

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Friday February 3, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas, Hampshire

Their is nothing quite like sitting in bed at 5am with a TCP mouthwash and the June 1983 edition of Homes and Gardens draped across ones knees, and sweaty knees at that. Feel 'throaty'. Bloody typical. I always go down with something in Hampshire. I got up and crept around making pots of tea at dawn but bumped into Frank heading towards his study. The man is a workaholic. What will he do when he retires?  ______. In bed until 8:30 and then I washed my son and bedecked him out in a peppermint creation and passed him on to his mama for breakfast. The usual fried repast for us. Bessie, unwell, is like a ghost. We sat around the log fire. I continie with Homes & Gardens reading about how the top 2 per cent live. 'Bubbles' Rothermere's flat, &c. 

Winchester Cathedral.

We took Samuel to see Winchester Cathedral - a thousand years old and still unfinished. Little men in overalls with baskets of cement whistling along to Boy George on Radio 1. Back at 4 and slept in the chair before the blazing inferno. Chicken for dinner which seemed to cook for hours and hours. The kitchen was like a Turkish bath. Ally phoned Graham who was dashing out. Bessie asked vaguely whether Graham still 'plays games'. Eh? 'Does he still go out and play that game where you roll things at something', she vaguely inquired. 'Skittles', she decided. Frank came in at 9 from a bank leaving do. He frowned. The bank manager who was leaving had a peroxide wife who was pissed and wearing polka dots. We watched a Channel 4 programme on childbirth. Bessie sat with her hand over her eyes, a little embarrassed. As an 18 year-old St John's Ambulance worker she saw the very first baby born in 1940 in Colne. To bed at 11:30 and looked at a Nancy Mitford book. Ally was half asleep waiting for Samuel to wake, which he did at 12:45. He was hot and red like a lobster. Exquisite.

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Thursday February 2, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

River Itchen at Martyr Worthy.

The Rhodes family on holiday at Martyr Worthy. The three of us. Samuel was fed at about 6am and then slept until after 10. Poor Bessie didn't get up and was in her bedroom. A sunny, bright and crisp day. The south is always so mild after the wilds of bleak Bradford. By the time we've had a cooked breakfast and changed the baby eighteen times it was 2pm. I feel 'heady' with a creeping sore throat. We bundled Samuel up and pushed him down the lane to the river but turned round because of the mud and walked down the road to Itchen Abbas. A house on the site of the old derelict railway station is called 'Beeching' - no doubt after Lord Beeching, who closed the place down, and by this act of vandalism, brought about the construction a new housing estate. Saw Mrs Bullock driving around feeding the 'Over 60s'. She didn't recognise us. Back to Ch. Cross after an hour. Bessie was slumped in a chair with her knitting. Log fire, deep velvet chairs, &c. Baby bathtime. Samuel cried like a lamb throughout the hair washing but was stunned to silence on entering the water. Bessie took photos of him splashing. We dined on grilled braising steak because Bessie went to the freezer without her specs and picked up the wrong meat. Tough. Washed nappies. David Attenborough on the telly. News: Mrs Thatcher goes to Budapest draped in furs looking like Catherine the Great or Zsa Zsa Gabor. Bed at 12.

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Wednesday February 1, 1984

Chillandham Cross.

 5, Club St, Lidget Green, Bradford

New Moon

6:00am chorus. Very good because Samuel went through the night with no feed. Pots of tea and the radio. My hair is sticking out all over and I have decided to have it taken away. Rain. We pushed Samuel over the road to the church hall and have him weighed at the clinic and an MOD inspected his knees, which click. This is nothing to worry about. He weighs 8lb 9oz. Ally was quite revolted at the size of some of the other babies. Great fat things with thighs like legs of pork in a butcher's shop. Samuel is so pleasantly proportioned. At 10:30 I walked down to have my hair cut but the place was closed. Got soaked to the skin and stamped around in puddles. I dislike having my plans thwarted and I stormed home. When Samuel slept Ally went to Vallances and ordered a new washing machine and dryer for £24.75 a month. Not bad. We packed in a disorganised fashion. In fact I didn't pack at all. That sort of thing is Ally's department. Set out to Winchester at 3 and arrived at 7:30. Samuel slept until Oxford and wailed from then on. Heart rending to hear him crying with hunger in the back. We found Bessie full of cold and looking ghastly. Neither she or Frank touched the baby because of it. We ate pork chops and watched TV. Looked at photographs. Hasn't the baby changed in three weeks. It's frightening. He'll soon be a rebellious teen with green hair, sniffing solvent adhesives and sleeping around. To bed at 12.

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Tuesday January 31, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green

2:50am. Samuel was chattering like a cheetah, or the chimps in those Johnny Weissmuller 'Tarzan' epics. I got up to look at him and he was sucking his mittens with great concentration. Pots of tea, &c. To knock Samuel out I continued with the Windsor saga and he dropped off somewhere after George VI's coronation and the emergence of the Hitler threat. Much more interesting than stuff about three bears. Went back to bed for a few hours. At breakfast time I went out and bought a fresh loaf and a newspaper. Slippery under foot. We messed around until after 12 changing, feeding, then changing again. I sat with Elizabeth Longford's book. Eventually we put the pram in the car and went into town where we inspected washing machines and pine beds (£180 at Cheap 'n Cheerful). Ally inspected the bed and I stayed in the street pushing Samuel around in his pram. Negotiating snow drifts is something of a military exercise. We arrived home at 4 to find Harry and Marian Miller driving into the street behind us. They came in for a cup of tea but Samuel screamed with hunger. He had been patient all afternoon. The Millers were drivern out after half an hour. Harry almost talking to himself about a pub near Eggborough Power Station. We later phoned our mothers. We're going to Winchester tomorrow after clinic and to Horton on Tuesday Feb 7. Ally phoned the Moorhouse and asked if we can store some furniture there on Sunday Feb 12. The Piries said yes. They are flogging the microwave oven for £125. A bit steep? Cottage pie. Watched 'Dallas' and the news. Ronald Reagan is to run again as expected. His only rival is Fritz Mondale, but he'll get back in. That's a cert. Bed at 11. The little boy slept from midnight but seemed to be having nightmares twitching and flinching in his cot.

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